Batmish, it’s time. Dammit. Dammit, dammit, dammit. DAMN IT.

I’ve summoned my skeletons, and they’ve appeared. …But the rest is up to me. I have to enter the fray. Fuuuuck. I was Dad’s signature. Always. In the end I was technically his signature. The signer on all his accounts. Because I took care of him. When he wanted to shuffle cash from one card…

Finally tackling the damn “DON’T” dance

Not so fucking easy and with the nerve damage there’s a bunch I have to change up; god, I realize now how deceptively easy it looks, but it is not. So, yeah, I need some kind of challenge to make me work. And Beyoncé isn’t doing it anymore and isn’t practical.     (follow up quickie non-dancer aside)